


Better Late Than Never

by ainm



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, Humor, M/M, challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:23:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ainm/pseuds/ainm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sleepy Jim. Clueless Blair. Phantom beans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Late Than Never

## Better Late Than Never

#### by ainm

Author's website: <http://www.geocities.com/ainm66/TS>  
Not mine, making no money, intending no copyright infringement.  
  
Written for the Sentinel Thursday challenge "better late than never." Thanks, guys!  
This story is a sequel to: 

* * *

Though it was almost 1:45 in the morning, Blair was still at the table, student essays spread round and an extra-large mug of coffee within reach, when Jim stumbled blearily down the stairs. 

"Hey, Jim," he said as his mostly-asleep partner staggered past him toward the kitchen, but he received only a content-free grunt in response. 

Blair watched with interest as Jim began to rummage through the cupboards, his muttering and grumbling still incomprehensible. Jim was usually one of those disgusting creatures who was alert immediately on waking, but apparently he was having an off night or something. 

"Can I help you? What are you looking for?" Blair offered finally. 

Jim didn't actually reply, but he _did_ look over in the general direction of the speaker, looking vaguely surprised to see him, as if he hadn't just walked by him several minutes before. 

"Are you OK, Jim?" 

Jim just frowned, and started looking in the refrigerator. 

Blair started to worry, just a bit... maybe Jim wasn't actually awake at all. Did sleepwalkers raid the fridge? 

Jim closed the refrigerator with what sounded suspiciously like a growl. 

"Jim, what are you looking for?" Blair tried to sound commanding. 

"Mmmmmm... beans? No, no, that wasn't it. Orange juice?" 

"Orange juice? If you want orange juice, there was plenty right there in the fridge..." 

"Orange juice? No, I don't want orange juice, it's --" he paused to check the time on the microwave "-- 1:48. Um..." 

Blair watched as his sentinel, incoherent and confused, clad only in a pair of ticking-stripe boxers, scrubbed his hand over his sleep-spiked hair, and he had a sudden realization. A sudden, shouldn't-be-surprising-but-it-is, should-be-surprising-but-it-isn't, years-in-the-making realization. 

He loved Jim. And Jim looked really hot in only his boxers. (OK, _two_ realizations, but they were related.) 

Feeling both overwhelmed by the incredible wash of tenderness that was filling him at the sight of his partner and rather mortified that he could have possibly 1) missed this, and 2) noticed it in a flash in the middle of the night when Jim was possibly hallucinating or something, Blair just gaped as Jim came to stand in the entrance to the kitchen, looking at Blair. 

"Um... what am I looking for?" 

All Blair could do was laugh and shrug his shoulders -- and take in the full effect of Jim's (lack of) attire now that he wasn't hidden by the cabinets. 

Jim rubbed his eyes, and shook his head briskly as if to clear it. 

"Sandburg?" he asked, sounding a bit lost, and a bit like he expected Blair to actually have answers. But then... "Sandburg!" 

Suddenly Jim seemed totally awake. 

"Holy shit, Sandburg!" 

"What? Have you figured it out?" Maybe there was some logical explanation for why he was looking under the sink for phantom beans. 

"Not me, I figured it out years ago -- you! I swear, I'd totally written it off as a lost cause, and now you get with the program?!" Soft and sleepy was gone, replaced by aggravated and hands-on-hips. 

"Um... does this involve beans?" What the hell was Jim talking about? 

"Beans? What the hell are you talking about?" 

"Jim, man, maybe you should just sleepwalk your way back upstairs and lie down and tomorrow you won't remember a thing." 

"You don't want me to --" The words started as a bluster, but were cut off abruptly. "What?" he continued in a much smaller, confused-again voice. 

"Jim... I'm confused, OK? Can you tell me what it is you think I figured out?" Because certainly he couldn't _know_ what Blair had figured out... could he? Was the whole thing part of his late-night ravings? "Because I was trying to figure out whether the similarities in a couple of these papers was coincidental or actual cheating, and then I was trying to figure out why you were tearing the kitchen apart and mumbling to yourself, and I've not figured out _either_ yet." 

"I think I had weird dreams. I mean, regular-weird, not portentous-weird." 

"About food?" 

"Sandburg, that's not the point." 

"Jim, please... I don't know _what_ the point is." 

Jim was silent for so long that Blair was afraid he wouldn't ever answer. 

"I saw how you looked at me," he finally said. "At first I thought OK, fine, the contrary little bastard has _finally_ gotten a clue, and even if I don't understand what took so long, it's _good_ , you know? But now you want me to sleep it off, so maybe you knew all along, but you don't want us to go there so you've been hiding it and you just slipped a little tonight." 

"Whoa." 

"So what'll it be, Sandburg?" 

"Ah... are you _sure_ you aren't still asleep?" 

"Positive." Jim looked serious. "Look, Chief, if you don't --" 

"-- no, wait. I'm just... it's hard to believe that after all this time..." 

"I'm approaching it as 'better late than never,' but if that's not how you --" 

"-- Jim! Stop putting words in my mouth, OK? It's the middle of the night, first you freaked me out rummaging incoherently around the kitchen, and now you've totally changed my world-view. Give me a minute!" 

Slowly Jim smiled, not his usual smile but one of those rare, blinding smiles that just lights up the room. "Sure, Blair. I've given you this long, another while longer won't kill me." 

Blair looked at Jim's face, trying to read his emotions, his sincerity. It wasn't that he thought that Jim would consciously mess with his head, but he had a hard time believing that Jim was truly _conscious_. 

Was it really true that Jim had understood what was between them long before he did? Well, "what" other than the sentinel thing, plus the dissertation thing, plus the partner thing, plus the roommate thing, plus the friend thing... did it really all add up to love? 

Inevitably, Blair's gaze was drawn lower, taking in the smooth, sculpted planes of Jim's chest, then lower still, to the worn boxers that gave the impression that at least _part_ of Jim was quite sincere indeed. 

He quickly jerked his eyes back to Jim's face -- and without actual thought, Blair found himself several steps closer to his partner, because there was no mistaking _that_ hungry look. 

Jim began to smile again as Blair slowly closed the gap between the two of them. It was no simple expression, Blair thought dimly, rather it contained elements of satisfaction, triumph, lust, just the tiniest bit of uncertainty, and... love. 

Blair suddenly launched himself at that smile, hit with an overwhelming urge to taste it, make it part of himself. 

He could both hear and feel Jim's laughter as Blair's mouth began a thorough exploration, tracing those smiling lips with his tongue and then pushing his way inside, capturing the low chuckles for himself. 

Jim was still smiling when they finally broke apart, both gasping for breath. 

"So -- better late than never, right?" Jim asked with another small laugh. 

"Oh _yeah_ ," Blair agreed fervently, before giving in to temptation and running his hands over Jim's chest. 

They both let out a sigh, and when Blair looked up at Jim's face, the smile was gone. But the mindless-with-lust look that replaced it would do just fine in its place. 

" _Better late than never_ ," Blair thought, then gave up thinking altogether. 

* * *

End 

Better Late Than Never by ainm: ainm@livejournal.com  
Author and story notes above.

Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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